Ars Poetica
by Artemesia
Summary: TsukimineShrine challenge. One-shot. Nadeshiko and Fujitaka spend a tender moment over a box of books and a love poem.


Author's Note: Posted in response to the "Study" challenge on Tsukimine Shrine. Decided to try my hand at a Fujitaka/Nadeshiko ficlet for a pleasant, fluffy change. As usual, I don't own CCS. The poem Nadeshiko quotes is Sonnet 17 from "100 Sonnets" by Pablo Neruda.  
  
"Ars Poetica" A Cardcaptor Sakura fanfiction by Artemesia  
  
"Let me take that box, it's too heavy for you."  
  
"It's not that heavy, I'm just fi-" Fujitaka managed to catch his young wife as she toppled backwards, but the box banged and rolled back down the stairs, books flying as the packing tape gave way.  
  
Nadeshiko blushed in her husband's arms, looking at the carnage behind her. "I'm sorry," she said, brushing a long brown tress out of her eyes. "I didn't think they were that heavy. Let me go put them back-"  
  
Fujitaka smiled and cut her off with a gentle kiss. "I'll help you, besides, now would be a good time to take a break. We still haven't touched that strawberry cake."  
  
"And we still have the iced green tea! I'll pour us some glasses as soon as we're done." Nadeshiko kissed her husband in return and slowly extricated herself from his arms. Her pale blue dress swishing around her ankles, surely what she had tripped on, she made her way back down the stairs, followed closely by the newest professor at the University of Tomoeda.  
  
"We're going to need a house just for all of your books!' Nadeshiko said with a melodious laugh as they both started putting the scattered books back into the box. Even during the warm spring and early summer months, the couple had worked on converting the loft of their small apartment into a study for Fujitaka, and were still in the process of bringing his numerous boxes of books up from their temporary homes downstairs.  
  
She didn't recognize some of the titles – her husband knew English, German, and a smattering of ancient languages, and his literature reflected his linguistic diversity. A book on excavations at the site of Ilium; a primer on hieroglyphics; a biography of an American runner Fujitaka especially admired; Nadeshiko might not have known any Greek or Latin, but her English was quite good. One tome caught her eye – rather well-worn, a sign the book was much loved – and she opened it curiously. On the left was a language she didn't understand, but it was translated into English on the facing side. In a halting but lyrical voice she began to read:  
  
"I do not love you as if you were salt-, salt-rose-" Nadeshiko frowned at the book. "Why is this poem about not loving someone? The cover said it was a book of love poems."  
  
It took Fujitaka a moment to respond. He had been entranced by the vision of his wife, sitting with her hair fluttering in the warm breeze, blue fabric spilling all around her, reading one of his favorite poems. He still couldn't believe she was his, knowing what she had given up to marry him. With a soft laugh and a tender smile, he crawled over to sit behind his wife, cupping her slender waist easily in his arms.  
  
"It is a love poem, you just need to read more of it. Go on, you were doing a wonderful job." He nestled his head on her tiny shoulder, reading the words of the beloved poem. How she had picked that page out of all the others – another sign that this was the woman with whom he would spend the rest of his life.  
  
Nadeshiko sighed contently as her husband cradled her, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat outside. His touch soothed her, his words encouraged her to take the book and begin again.  
  
"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, In secret, between the shadow and the soul.  
  
"I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.  
  
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where; I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way  
  
"Than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."  
  
Nadeshiko closed her eyes and the book as Fujitaka held her even closer, lifting one hand from her waist to trail his fingers through her hair. One of her slender, pale hands reached back to cup his cheek, the other lowered the book back to the floor. Beneath Fujitaka' wide hand, a tiny spark of energy, their yet-unknown unborn son, glimmered like a new star. Beneath Nadeshiko's delicate fingers, the book of Clow hummed and a moon guardian slept in a dreamless sleep, feeling for a moment a burst of warmth, love, and new beginnings. 


End file.
